The small hooded figure crept along the landing corridor and began to descend the stairs. She hadn't gone far when a tread creaked beneath her foot, the small noise echoing in the quietness of the night. The figure stopped and listened. Had anyone heard it? Was she about to be caught? Up in one of the rooms on the next floor, she heard a man splutter a snore. It must be Arcturus. Pollux and his wife had taken the floo home just after her mom and uncle had left.
In the next bedroom to hers – Walburga's – came the squeak of bedsprings and then... silence. Had she gotten out of bed? Had she turned over in her sleep? The mattress didn't squeak again, but a mouse did from behind the wooden panelling. At least Buffy thought it was a mouse. From what she'd seen so far, you never knew what the Blacks might have walled up.
They had an umbrella stand made from a Troll's foot in the hallway. When Buffy had seen it, she'd desperately wanted to ask what they'd done with the rest of the body. Had they made other furniture from its limbs or had they disposed of it? She'd opened her mouth, intending to ask, and her mom had stopped her with a hard look.
Deciding that no one was going to come out and investigate the squeaking noise, Buffy continued towards the lower floor. On each side of her, portraits of the Blacks ancestors snoozed in their frames. Remembering the portrait that she'd knocked in the Slytherin dormitory and the ruckus the occupant had made, Buffy took care to walk in the centre of the stairway and not brush against any of the paintings.
When she came to the last few steps, Buffy moved over to the right-hand side of the staircase. She knew from earlier that on this part of the stairs the severed heads were displayed.
.*.*.
After dinner, their hosts had led the way along the hall, past the Trolls foot, and began to ascend the stairs to the Drawing Room. Buffy had been just ahead of her mother when she spotted the row of grotesque heads hanging off the wall. She'd stopped and immediately felt her mother's hand touch the small of her back.
"They're only Elves, Honey," Joyce whispered into her ear.
"Elves?" Buffy tilted her head, squinting at the display of heads. "I thought Elves were pretty with more forehead, smaller noses, and lots of long, shampoo-commercial type hair?"
"Not these. Keep going." Joyce gave Buffy a little push. "Don't make a fuss. Close your eyes if they scare you."
Scare her? As if a severed head would scare her! She just thought they were a strange thing to have on display so everyone could see.
"Are they hunting trophies?" Buffy asked, giving the humanoid faces with their bulging eyes and bedraggled ears a wide berth. It was hard to imagine the immaculately clad Arcturus and Pollux donning hunting gear and setting off to hunt wild Elves.
Joyce let out a nervous laugh. "No, they were servants. When they die the Blacks cut off their heads and put them on their wall."
"Eww!" shrieked Buffy, forgetting where she was. "That's gross!"
"Shush," Joyce hissed, shooting Buffy an annoyed, reproving look. The glare dropped, and putting on a fake smile, Joyce called up to where Melania was waiting for them on the next landing.
"We're just saying you have an amazing house, Melania. I can tell someone here is an art connoisseur. Wasn't that an Edmund Mullins I saw hanging in the dining room?"
"You have a good eye," complimented the portly Pollux Black.
Buffy looked over her shoulder, surprised at how close he was. She'd thought Lovell and Peregrine had been behind her mom, not Pollux. Lovell had dropped back; he was just behind Pollux now. Buffy saw his mop of curly blonde hair dip as he pushed something into his pocket. What was he hiding?
Buffy's eyes narrowed. Had he brought his pet toad with him? If he had, it was no wonder that he'd looked distracted during dinner. She felt annoyed. During dinner, she'd felt sorry for him thinking he was feeling awkward and shy. It wasn't shyness making him quiet, it was because his familiar kept hopping out of his pocket. Why had he brought it with him? He'd told her that he was going to leave Knuts behind in the little tank in his room.
That wasn't fair. She'd left Spikey behind telling him he wasn't invited. Her boggart had flown off in a sulk when she'd told him.
Pollux was still talking, "...There are many rare artefacts in this house. Beside the Mullins, there's a fine portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black hanging in the library."
He turned to Lovell, who hurriedly pushed the toad right down into the bottom of his pocket and placed his hand over him so that he couldn't jump out.
"You know who Phineas Black is, don't you?" Pollux asked snootily.
Buffy was glad that he'd asked Lovell and not her. Phineas must be someone famous in the Wizarding World, who she had no idea.
Lovell looked blank, and then his face cleared. "Wasn't he one of the Hogwarts headmasters?"
"He was indeed," replied Pollux, with a self-satisfied smile. He addressed Joyce once more, "Mrs Summers, is it correct that you studied art in Europe?"
"Yes, I travelled to France, Germany, and Rome," Joyce replied. "And I ran my own gallery in the States. I'm thinking of opening something similar here but selling a combination of Muggle and Magical artwork..."
Buffy lost track of their conversation as Lovell pulled her to one side, letting the others enter the drawing room before them.
"They have a copy!" he whispered.
"Copy?" she asked. Through the open door she could see Orion, Walburga, and the rest of the Black kids already seated on the sofas.
Lovell pushed a hand through his hair, ruffling it untidily. It stood on end in a frizzy halo around his forehead and Buffy realised the best birthday present she could get him would be a large bottle of Sleekeazy potion.
"Phineas Black's portrait!"
"So?" She had more important things to think about than the Black's artwork. Would Arcturus bring the subject up of her father again? Had her mom been seduced by a Pureblood wizard and abandoned? Or had she had an affair whilst she was with Hank Summers? His letter had been so abrupt. What had he meant by'Joyce, you reap what you sow, and I want to be as far away as possible from you when the Reaper calls'.That sounded ominous. Had he known that someone would attack them? What if her father was Von Kendrick? Or was he an enemy of Von Kendrick?What if her father was one of those wizards fighting on Grindelwald's side? Was her father a Dark Wizard? Was that why her mother had left him? Had she run because -.
"Buffy?"
She blinked and realised that Lovell had asked her something. "Huh? Sorry, I zoned out."
"Wasn't he the Headmaster who spoke of the Slayer?"
It took a few seconds before she realised who he was talking of. Then her jaw dropped and she slapped a hand to her forehead. "God, sometimes I'm so dumb!"
Lovell thought that funny. He chuckled. "That's why you're a Slytherin and not a Ravenclaw like me."
Buffy huffed. "Yeah, well, guess somehow I'll survive the indignity of being a Slytherin. So... Mister I'm-A-Ravenclaw, any bright ideas on how we talk to the headmaster's portrait without the Munster family noticing what we're up to?"
*.*.*.*
There was a whiff of smoke in the hallway. Buffy sniffed, then hurried along the hall, passing the serpent-legged table and stopping at the library door. Turning the serpent-shaped handle, she slowly opened the door to peer inside.
The library was a long room with velvet floor-length curtains covering the sash windows on the far side. Someone was hiding there. After a moment, the drapes moved and her Slayer night vision saw the hooded figure step out into the room.
"Lovell," she breathed.
"How did you know it was me?" Lovell asked, sounding disappointed. He pulled back his hood. "I could have been anyone."
"I could smell the smoke from the candle you'd blown out and my super-duper Slayer night vision spotted you hiding in the curtains. I figured if you were a Black you wouldn't have hid," she replied, removing her own hood and moving towards him. " Why did you leave your hiding place? You're lucky it was me."
"The window over the front door in the hall is letting in moonlight. I caught a glimpse of fair hair when you opened the door."
There was the sound of a match striking and a light flared, illuminating her cousin's face from below. Lovell lit the three candles on a candelabra and picked it up. The small flames caused shadows to dance over the nearby bookshelves.
"I heard Arcturus say Phineas' portrait has pride of place overlooking his desk." Buffy said, already scanning the room and getting her bearings.
She moved off and Lovell followed more slowly. Knowing he had a tendency towards clumsiness, he lifted his feet, taking care not to trip over the edges of the thick Aubusson carpets that covered the wooden floor. When they came to the desk, they both paused, and peered up at the nearest paintings. In one, there was only an ornately carved chair, the second, an elderly witch lying on her deathbed surrounded by her family, and the third was a landscape.
"His must be the empty one," said Lovell. He walked over to the painting and moved the candles to enable them to read the inscription on the frame. Sure enough, it read, 'Phineas Nigellus Black 1847-1925'.
"He isn't home." Buffy felt disappointed. Why had he left his picture empty when they needed to speak to him? Where had he gone|? She stepped forward and rapped on the frame with her knuckles. "Hey, Mr Black, you've visitors."
"Who dares to disturb my rest?" a man's voice cried. The face of a bearded wizard came into view, he wore green robes and the emblem of a silver serpent embroidered onto his tunic. At the sight of Lovell and Buffy in Hogwarts robes, he frowned. "What's this? Students? Is it not bad enough having you hound me at Hogwarts that they must also follow me home? Is there no sanctuary, no peace for a deceased wizard these days?"
Lovell placed the candlestick down on the small side table beneath the portrait. With a slickness that surprised Buffy he said, "Apologies for disturbing you, Headmaster. We're looking for information that only you can provide."
"Being so clever and stuff," Buffy added cheerfully.
Lovell pressed the top of her foot with his shoe, wanting her to stay quiet.
"What houses are you in?" Phineas asked, peering at their robes.
"I'm a Ravenclaw and my cousin," Lovell gestured to Buffy, "is in Slytherin."
Phineas ignored Lovell and peered at Buffy. "I don't recognise your face? Who are your parents, girl?"
Knowing Buffy would cheerfully give her Muggle surname and Phineas might think her Muggleborn and take her into dislike, Lovell said, "We're both Lovegoods."
Phineas hummed at that. "Any relation to that odd boy, Peregrine Lovegood, who spent his lessons staring out the window and his free time hunting frogs on the edge of the lake?"
"That's my father," Lovell replied. "He remembers you very fondly."
Buffy eyed Lovell warily. Hadn't he already told her that Peregrine disliked Phineas Black and said he'd been a terrible headmaster?
The grumpy wizard grunted. "As expected, as expected. Well, what do you want to ask me? Spit it out? We haven't got all day!" He narrowed his eyes, peering at the darkened library behind them. "Or should I say all night? Why bother me with questions at this time? Is there no common decency in the youth of today?"
Deciding a little feminine flattery might help, Buffy pasted on her most innocent, wide-eyed expression. With a flutter of eyelashes and wringing of her hands, she begged, "Oh, please, Sir. We need to floo back to Hogwarts in the morning. Can you answer a couple of questions for my brainy cousin?"
Lovell gave her a dark look. Which she chose to ignore. Instead, she gave Phineas Black her most enchanting mega-watt smile.
Phineas made a small choking noise, cleared his throat, and then gave her a kind warm smile. Lovell looked from Buffy to the portrait and then looked away, rolling his eyes. Slytherins! They not only used flattery but were susceptible to it as well.
Buffy elbowed Lovell in his side. "Ask him," she said through the side of her mouth.
"Sir, I'm writing an essay on the long, lost organisations of the Wizarding World. I came across a mention of a group who control a magical entity..."
Buffy's eyes slid sideways. Magical entity?
"... I wonder if you've heard of them?"
Phineas rubbed his hands together and pursed his lips. "You pose an interesting question. This entity, what form did it take?"
"It took the form of a teenage girl, Sir," supplied Lovell. "The organisation called themselves the Watchers Council."
Phineas' jaw dropped. "What!" he roared. "How do you know about them? They were not a Wizarding organisation!"
Buffy tapped the wizard's frame. "Shhh, keep your voice down," she pleaded. "Any louder and you'll wake the dead."
"Yes, yes, all dead," Phineas replied having misheard her. He settled back in his seat. "Filthy Muggles, the lot of them," he muttered. "It makes you wonder what those idiots from the Ministry were thinking, allowing an organisation like that to take a witch out of Hogwarts. Blood traitors, that's what they were." He smoothed out his robe. "It was long before my time, of course, and back then they had more of a problem with-." He stopped talking and stroked his beard, eyeing them both thoughtfully. "You're students. How did you hear of them?"
"National Geographic magazine," replied Buffy glibly. She had no intention of revealing herself as a Slayer or her visions of a previous life. "Don't you think it's cruel how all those Slayers died young?"
"Those were all Muggle girls," replied Phineas scornfully. "The Watchers Council got more than they bargained for when they took on the witch Lily Moon. She died in her bed at the age of one hundred and fifty-nine, and with her natural death the Slayer line ended."
...
A/N;
to everyone who left a review on my last chapter... your feedback is appreciated! So was the cyber chocolate, calorie free!
I hope you like this one just as much. Now you know who the last Slayer was. There is a lot more to Lily Moon and Buffy will discover more about her as the story progresses.